Every Time She Sneezes
by SpecialAgentAMB
Summary: ...I believe it's love. A fluffy little one shot of what happens when Ziva gets sick and Tony wants to be there for her.


_A/N: This was just a cute little one shot I came up with while listening to my iTunes. Of course, the title is called "Track 17" with an unknown artist, so if anyone knows what this song is called and who it's by and let's me know, that would be spectacular. _

_Disclaimer: Still don't own NCIS… but the season premiere! Fantastic!!! And seems like next week there will be another bathroom moment between Tony and Ziva… I'm so excited! But my excitement doesn't mean I own it. I don't own the song either._

~*~

_Every time she sneezes…_

"Achoo!" Came a sneeze from across the bullpen.

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo looked up to see Mossad Officer Ziva David crumple up a tissue and toss it into her trash bin. He tilted his head and looked at her curiously. She glanced up and caught his eye.

"What, Tony?" She asked, her eyes red and puffy. They had been sent out to an outdoor crime scene during a particularly cold, snowy day, and Ziva was unfortunate to come down with a nasty cold. Today they were writing their final copies of their reports, but Tony was constantly being distracted by her coughs, her sniffles, and her groans. This, however, was the first time he heard her sneeze.

It was… _cute_. Tony wracked his brain to find another way to describe her sneeze, but couldn't think of another word. Her sneeze was high pitch, but quiet, not screeching like Abby's.

"Bless you," He said quietly, embarrassed for being caught staring at her.

She gave a small smirk. "Thank…" she began, but quickly grabbed a tissue and sneezed again. She squeezed her eyes shut and wrinkled her nose, and Tony couldn't help but think that she looked just as cute as she sounded. "Ugh…" she moaned, dropping her head onto her desk, letting her hair fall around her.

Tony tilted his head again, gripping his desk so as not to be tempted to get up and push her hair gently away from her face. "Bless you again?" Ziva just groaned into her desk. _Sick Ziva is a very cute Ziva. Probably just as deadly… but cute_, he thought.

"Ziva, go home!" Gibbs said, walking into the bullpen, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. She opened her mouth to protest, but Gibbs sent her a stern look which meant that his order was not open for compromise. She sighed and began to pack her things, slamming her chair into her desk as she left without saying goodbye.

Tony spent the rest of time doing anything but his paperwork. He tried annoying Probie, but without someone else there to laugh at him, it was hardly fun. He played a game or two of solitaire, but that got boring quickly. He sighed, staring at his clock, willing it to move faster.

McGee dropped his report on Gibbs desk, then grabbed his coat and began to head out, muttering a quiet goodbye to Tony as he passed. Tony sighed deeply again, deciding maybe he ought to at least start his report, when Gibbs called out to him.

"Get out of here, Tony," he said, without looking away from his computer.

Tony's head jerked up in surprise, then glanced at the clock; it was only 17:30. He jumped up and grabbed his things. "Thank you, Boss," he said, practically running out of the bullpen in case Gibbs changed his mind.

"And Tony," Gibbs called again. "Check in on Ziva." Tony looked at his boss curiously, but Gibbs still did not bother looking away from his computer or the files on his desk. "I expect that report to be on my desk by noon tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Boss." Tony called, heading towards the elevator. He grinned, thinking that he had a few stops to make before heading to Ziva's.

**~*~**

Ziva lay on her couch, a blanket covering up to her shoulders, the T.V. on some random channel, and a box of tissues next to her with the trash bin underneath her coffee table. She normally had a very healthy immune system; it was rare that she caught anything. She tried all of the over the counter cold medicines. She tried hot tea with honey. She missed her morning runs in favor of getting an extra hour or two of sleep. But nothing seemed to work, so she was stuck being miserable.

Suddenly, a knock came from her front door. She moaned, covering her head with another pillow, hoping she just imagined the tapping noise. A few moments passed in silence, and she smiled gently into her pillow, glad to be in peace. Her smile faded, however, when she heard her door open and shut.

"Honey, I'm home!" A voice called softly. Ziva's eyes popped open at the familiar voice, and couldn't decide if she should feel relieved or embarrassed. Her fever had caused her to sweat and she had been too exhausted to shower, so her hair was greasy and dirty. Her nose was red and peeling, her eyes were watery and swollen, and her apartment was a wreck. Of all the times for Tony to show up unexpectedly, this was not the time Ziva would have chosen. She squeezed her eyes shut again, in hope that this was a dream.

The soft sound of his footsteps came closer until they were in front of her. She opened her eyes slowly to see him looking down at her, concerned etched in his expression.

"Tony, now is not a great time for company," She said wearily.

She heard a low, quiet chuckle from above her. "I'm not just here to keep you company, Zee. I'm here to take care of you."

She rolled over so she was lying on her back, now able to see his face. "You do not need to do that, Tony. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"I know you are. But wouldn't it be nice to be taken care of a little bit?" Ziva opened her mouth to protest once more, but she closed it when he gave her a funny look. It was a cross between a slightly harsh "shut up, Ziva," and a pleading look.

She sighed. "It would be… nice, I guess." He grinned at her and set to work. He put the bag he had brought down in her kitchen, then returned to her living room. He cleaned up the space next to her couch of all her tissues which fell from her hand instead of landing in the garbage, then proceeded to take the trash out.

He came back into the kitchen and began making her hot chicken noodle soup, just like his mother did long ago. He heard the T.V. switched channels while he continued his task, until it finally settled on what sounded like an old Cary Grant movie.

Tony carried out a tray of hot soup and a cold water bottle. Ziva sat up and offered the seat next to her, which he willingly accepted. They watched the movie in silence, only disrupted by the sounds of the spoon hitting the bowl, and the occasional sniffles. When she finished, she put the tray on the table in front of her and lay down comfortably again, with her feet on Tony's lap.

The movie played on, and they still sat in silence, until unexpectedly, Ziva let out another sneeze, and Tony felt a familiar pitter-patter in his chest. He looked down at Ziva, who was not quite sleeping, but not awake either, and smiled. He put his hand on her bent knees and leaned back to watch the movie, when Ziva's hand crept up and met his. He looked at their adjoined hands, then to her face. Her eyes were open, and she gave a small smile as she squeezed his hand gently, as if saying 'thank you.' He squeezed her hand back, saying 'you're welcome.'

It wasn't that he liked seeing her vulnerable, but he loved being someone for her to depend on, even if she claimed she didn't need help. As her gentle snores began to appear, he thought that maybe, just maybe, a life like this wouldn't be so bad. Not her being sick all the time, but a life of codependency. A life of needing each other. A life of wanting each other around. Maybe, just maybe, this was the first step in the right direction.

…_I believe it's love._


End file.
